Project 045
by That One Secretary
Summary: 'Ayameko stared at the miniature pineapple 2.0 and felt himself silently despairing' (In which the surviving Estraneo mess up an experiment, Mukuro adopts another homicidal fluff ball, and gender confusion follows.) "I feel it imperative to inform you that my programming prevents me from poking your eyes out with a butterfly clip." "...That was uncalled for, Byon" *Pre-Kokuyo-Arc*
1. Chapter 1

**Project 045**

 _The wind was brisk, and stung like icy needles as it whipped past in a howling gale, hurling itself against heavens floodgates like a petulant child as a dense fog gathered below; clouds torn from their thrones above to fall to the earth with whispery wings of white that seethed with oppression._

 _The smoky tendrils curled at the banks of a lake, the water roiling silver with stars that seemed to simmer beneath its surface, ones that made the studded black canvas of night pale in comparison. The smokescreen rolled around the edge of the banks, but made no move to drift across the water towards the shimmering white form standing serenely in the middle of the reflective pool of light- it was, in fact, a single pedestal that chipped at the edges, rising from the tumbling waves in an elegant alabaster carving._

 _Spider silk stretched across the waters, yet another layer of defense that shrouded the heart underneath the swelling currents, the gossamer pulsing with a distracting glow as water beaded on the strands. Storm clouds drifted across the velvet skies in an eternal life, watching over the figure crouched on the pedestal, so still they may have been made of glass. Frost glittered on thick black lashes, and spiraled down cheekbones in intricate designs, cupping a pale skinned chin and weaving around a slim neck to rest across collar bones like the clasp of a heavily decorated mantle. Their eyes did not open._

 _Deep in the fog, an intrusive aquamarine light pulsed, lost in the extensively built defenses as it searched relentlessly for a prey that would not come, yet neared closer to it all the same._

 _The figures eyes parted slightly, and a deep violet blaze spilled from their eyes to bathe its sharp cheekbones in the iridescent luminescence._

 _The aquamarine lights neared._

* * *

Eye lids drifted open partially, long eyelashes pushing laboriously through a thick liquid. Violet eyes stared unseeingly forwards into a beaming fluorescent aquamarine that pressed against him on all sides, numbing heavy limbs that ached dully; nerves slow to respond, the electric signals from brain to body even more so.

At the very same time he commanded his eyes to focus, the chemicals that seeped into his cells blocked them, sending violent tingles snapping down his spine, which arched slightly in reflex.

the slight movement dislodged pockets of the congealing liquid that clung to him like a second skin, sending quiet ripples into the rest of it. He was aware of being weightless, of the sharp pins and needles that whittled at his skin as he began to wake up; and suddenly he was crushingly aware of the cold that seized his chest, pressed against his sternum, of the pressure that bore down on him, making his head pound and flashing lights appear behind his eyelids.

There were muffled yells of alarm as his heartbeat began to become erratic; beat a war drums beat against his ribs so hard he feared it might rupture from the sudden acceleration.

A pneumatic hiss echoed through the liquid, and he felt the pressure ease as stale air began to empty itself into his body through metal pipes that extended from a mask that had been fitted over his face- at the sudden breath of oxygen, his heart began to settle and start pumping blood at an erratic pace, eventually stabilizing into a more active beat than before.

Blood rushed to his head, and the spike of pain doubled, before seeping away with the last vestiges of the fog that muddled his mind. As his eyes finally focused, he could make out a murky covering beyond the gel that surrounded him, frost sparkling at its border that painted the crew of humans wearing white lab coats in a pale white illumination.

They looked to be in awe, sunken eyes outlined by dark circles that painted their pale features in a butchered image of success. He just about made out the crisp script that was written on the borders of their lab coats, before a smell like rotten fruit crept in with his oxygen supply, and he felt himself slipping away, his musings drifting far beyond his reach...

 _Estraneo._

* * *

 _There was another intruder, one who simply walked through the thick fogs like it was nothing but a faint drizzle, making unerring progress towards the puddle of moonlight that lay in the heart of it. The intruder reached the edges of the lake banks, and unaffected by the increasingly vicious gale that transformed into an all-out hurricane, smirked and reached out a hand. A metal trident that glowed with indigo mist materialized under his fingers, and he simply tapped the spider silk strands, watching them to turn into Lilly pads at his whim, before he began to stride towards the figure on the pedestal with cat like grace._

 _"Kufufufu...It's rare that i find such a mind scape, skilled illusionists are rather hard to come by...and those defenses would have worked as well~"_

 _He drawled lazily, eyes roaming over the frost that held the figure still. His brows creased slightly in unease, but he continued to speak, voice a deep velvet that dripped with deception._

 _"However, that rather large spike of mist flames just now was practically a lit beacon and a firework show all in one...surely it was dangerous to just release so much flames in just one flare? unnatural, even."_

 _The figures eye lids lifted a bit more, and the violet lamps that were his eyes threw his surrounding area into sharp relief. Red began to creep across the spider silk, destroying it as it neared the heart of the web. The intruder's eyes narrowed._

 _"What is that frost?"_

 _he snarled, and moments before the storm flames reached the invaders mist construction, his mind scape jerked, wavering, and something began to pull at him. words and scattered images drifted towards him, and a single word slipped past his blue lips before the crimson flame disintegrated the invaders form, a word that made their eyes widen in rage._

 _"Estraneo."_

* * *

It was different from before. As his eyes began to drift open once again, awareness came easier to him; adressed the freezing metal clamps that clutched at his forearms, tubes that carried strangely colored liquids leading down to them- his neck stung terribly, felt raw like it had been burnt somehow as the liquid around him tingled, pulsating with green sparks that sent shivers racking down his spine.

His back felt weighed down, and he tilted his head slightly, the various devices attached to his face chafing uncomfortably. he could just about make out metal needles inserted down his backbone all the way to the tailbone, before he turned his head back to its normal position. There was no sweet smelling gas this time, and his watched the shifting figures in white lab coats with curious violet eyes. There were only 3 of them, and as he observed, they began to take up varying posts; one beside the monitors, the other beside a console that seemed to control his conditions inside the tank; and the third one beside a bronze lever hooked up to a large cylinder. As he stared unabashedly, the man lit up a crackling green light on the cheap looking green ring on his finger, and jammed it into the top of the cylinder.

The scientist at the monitors, an old woman with a shock of graying red hair, gave the two young, and admittedly scruffy, men the thumbs up. Apprehension trickled into his veins, and his fingers began to twitch, trailing the thick blue liquid uneasily as they curled into fists. The bronze lever was pulled back haltingly, and every time it was pulled further towards the operator, the gel seemed to become heavier; his blood churning nauseatingly as the white blood cells failed to recognize the modified chemicals that were being pumped into him; making his joints burn badly as though something was being forced into them. As the pain reached new heights, his mouth opened in a soundless scream, writhing in the tank with a vindictive viciousness born of the truly primitive base for the 'fight and flight' response.

The man beside the cylinder nodded, in a disturbingly apathetic fashion, before flicking a switch on the cylinders surface. the green crackling energy roared, before the needles inserted in his back began to charge him with lightning flames that shot into his nervous system, effectively commandeering it as the flames resonated with the chemicals settled into his joints. The agony made a short scream tear through his; apparently abused; vocal cords, before his brain shut down completely, and his previously straining body fell limp, head lolling.

He didn't re-enter the mind scape.


	2. Chapter 2

**(Avoiding use of honorifics since I'm not sure how everyone addresses each other.)**

 **Project 045**

His eyes were closed when the first signs of disturbance were made known; the tank he was encased in shuddering as the shock proof base of it absorbed the impact- the ones outside of the reinforced chamber were less fortunate, collapsing as the ground heaved underneath them while the chipping cement wall exploded into deadly shrapnel. There was a scraping noise as the large steel ball was drawn back towards the offender, black chains clinking ominously as a thick mist began to pour into the room from the breach. There was a flash of two bright red eyes; before the scientists fell to illusions only they could see as the employed body guards at the corners of the rooms were taken out by the steel ball.

The air currents from it destroyed the monitors into crumpled metal and shards of sparking glass; the up throw of dust clearing to reveal a couple of seemingly teenagers- many looked bored, or annoyed at having been forced to play along with the unpredictable whims of their leader, but their eyes sharpened with interest when they caught sight of the figure suspended in murky aquamarine; their features distorted by the frost that clung to the screen of glass. One of them chuckled dangerously, and the mist withdrew as a decorated metal trident was flung into the glass.

It shattered under the assault as the trident dissolved into mist, and alarms began to blare from the console beside the tank before they were destroyed by several black needles with deadly accuracy. The aquamarine chemical flooded out of the remains of its previous container, leaving a 13-year-old boy to dangle from the metal masks clamped onto his face and neck. He was clad in a loose full sleeved black t-shirt that looked like it had been bought as an afterthought, paired with black trousers and a distinct lack of shoes.

The chemicals sheeted off his shoulders like the remains of a cape, dampening his attire further. After a few moments of observation and quiet mutters, there was an annoyed huff and a teenager with spiked blond hair strode forward warily, fingering a set of teeth at he did so. With a growl of 'Kong channel', he ripped the mask off the boy, tearing off the metal choker as he did so- the boy collapsed into the remains of his imprisonment, and with an annoyed grunt and an indication from the leader of the group, the teenager slung him over a shoulder grudgingly; The scientists with broken minds denied the sweet release of death as the gang sauntered away from the remains of what would have been.

Unnoticed, the remains of the console shifted apart to reveal a USB inserted into a screen that chimed 'DOWNLOAD COMPLETE' a few more times, before crumbling apart in a shower of sparks.

* * *

His eyes blinked open slowly as he stared uncomprehendingly at the ground that swung beneath him hazily- as his ears cleared, he was able to make out the sound of people laughing and clapping cheerily at the crackling of flames and rumble of collapsing concrete. His skin tingled with heat that painted the gravelly ground in a wealth of shadows and orange embers, wisps of black smoke dancing at the corners of his vision. There was a jolt in his chest, and the prickling feel of lightning flames that signified the now familiar and monotonous feel of his programming starting to kick in.

Pushing it to the back of his mind to sort through later, he concentrated on the sense of a light breeze that caressed his skin and the awkward positioning of his prone form- something dug into his stomach, and as his vision focused, he was able to deduce that he was slung over someones shoulder- their scent was musky, like the fur of an animal, under toned with gasoline and smoke, hinting that they may have been the cause of the fire.

prickles ran up and down his limbs, and he shifted slightly in order to stabilize his center of balance. Apparently enthralled by the fire chugging merrily behind him, the person he was hung over didn't notice. Content with the fact that if the people around him were later deemed as a threat he would at least be able to keep his balance if he decided to attack them, he allowed his eyes to slip shut once again; beginning to go through the new protocols transferred into his mind.

* * *

Chikusa sat silently beside the boy they had rescued from the Estraneo, watching as Ken sniffed him warily- the other members of their small family; namely Mukuro, Birds, Lancia, The Bloody Twins, and M.M; were in the other room of the abandoned flat they had commandeered for their brief respite in Northern Italy- the apartment building itself was still being inhabited, but with a quick dart of mist flames, all the tenants within had been convinced the flat 327 was haunted and to ignore the teenagers often spotted jumping out of windows ,shuffling up the stairs with arms full of junk food, or strutting around with little yellow birds clinging to them.

The elder members were discussing ways to stay under the radar of the prison they had escaped while he and Ken were to make sure the kid didn't react in a hostile manner.

The kid looked strange, with messy dark lavender hair that spiked up in the back but had long bangs that hid most of his left eye- he was pale, with long eyelashes that brushed his slightly defined cheekbones; the right of which supported a suspicious brand that resembled a scope symbol- apart from that, the most noticeable features which had obviously been gained during the experimentation process were the twisting black designs that had been scored into his collar bones- they closely resembled frosted over ferns, and if it weren't for the irritated skin around it that hinted at burns, he would have suspected them to be tattoos.

Ken backed away hastily, and he snapped to attention, watching as the boys eye lids lifted partially, before sliding open all the way. His eyes caught him off guard; they were a deep violet but his pupils were ragged and small despite the light levels, with two white rings circling it. Ken growled uneasily; a deep sound that dredged out of his throat, but the boy made no move to stand, apart from swinging himself into an upright position. the movement was fluid, almost boneless, and Chikusa found his fingers twitching towards his Yo-yo, wary of their wards grace. It reminded him of some of the hit men he had seen during the slaughter of Lancia's Famiglia.

The boy watched them calmly, and when he spoke, it was in a musical tone that dripped with false serenity and calm. Chikusa wondered if the boy was even aware that he was coloring his words with Rain and Mist flames.

"Jōshima Ken, Former Estraneo Famiglia test subject, Fighting abilities- level 3, uses sets of teeth to take on the characteristics of different animals. Kakimoto Chikusa, Former Estraneo Famiglia test subject, Fighting abilities- Level 3, a professional assassin that uses his 'Hedge-hog Yo-yo to shower his targets with poisoned needles. Both escaped when test subject Rokudo Mukuro took out the main Famiglia."

he drawled, and Kens hackles rose angrily- before things could escalate, there was the sound of Mukuro's distinctive laugh, before he approached them at a leisurely pace, a playful smile painted across his lips- M.M and Birds trotted along behind him as Lancia picked up the rear, and the boy's eyes flicked over them all before apparently deciding it was unnecessary to voice the information that had sprung to the front of his mind from the endless database downloaded into his mind.

"Kufufufu...its rude not to introduce yourself first, especially when in the presence of your saviors~"

"I am Project 045. I have been Programmed to be a combat and informational asset, but several protocols were butchered and are thereby faulty due to the early release."

M.M eyed his outfit with distaste and Birds grinned at the word 'Butchered' ; Mukuros smile twisting into a smirk as he inclined his head in a mock thoughtful manner.

"Informational Asset? then...would you happen to know where the candidate for Vongola Tenth is based?"

"Namimori, Japan."

He replied without missing a beat, tone still deadpan. There was a moment of silence as everyone stared at him in mild cases of shock and disbelief, before Mukuros smile gained an edge and he ran a hand over his trident lightly.

"That better not be a lie."

"I was not programmed to lie."

* * *

 **Replies to Reviews-**

 **Farronewp- Duly noted~**

 **Also, Arigato to everyone who favourited / followed the story; was slightly caught off guard to get so many only 10 hours after it was posted~**


	3. Chapter 3

**(I actually made a sketch of the Project, if you go to Deviantart and look up 'Project 045' you should find it- look for the one overloaded with purple, and by ThexJinxedXJesterx )**

 **(Note- This was rated T for gore, if your squeamish, read at your own risk. I made a friend preview it as a test, and she got sick due to an over active imagination. Just a warning; I'll still put a line down just before stuff gets bloody.)**

 **Project 045**

Project 045 sighed quietly under his breath, feeling the first stirrings of muted exasperation that never reached his projected aura as he watched the old man, 'Birds' start ordering the Bloody Twins to perform tricks one would reserve for dubiously clumsy puppies, with the added charm of self-injury every few minutes.

He tilted his head to avoid a wayward fork of questionable origins; prongs filed to rusty tips as the handle fell apart, and Birds shot him an almost pouty expression at not seeing him having to jerk his eyeball off the end of said fork, which was now in the possession of a pissed off Ken who swung it around in a flustered rage as Chikusa quietly reprimanded him about health hazards. He sympathized with the assassin as his glasses were knocked off and his eye came perilously close to being shish- kebabbed.

Lancia was sitting beside him, looking blankly detached, staring through reality into the recesses of memories best left untouched- the kanji in his eye was the mark of possession, yet the Project felt inexplicably at ease next to the dull eyed man. M.M had returned a while ago, looking sickeningly pleased, covered in bits of human flesh and scraps of what looked like it may have once been a designer outfit, merrily swinging a fat wallet stuffed with hard cash in a hand- she had given him a scrutinizing once over, before scoffing and walking back out of the apartment, seemingly unconcerned about the remains slathering her as she muttered sizes under her breath and fingered a gleaming clarinet fondly.

Mukuro had up and left directly after he had received his desired information, but a weak pulse of rain flames informed him that the mist user was only a few blocks away, and stationary- possibly at an internet café, whereas M.M had been wandering in and out of his radar all day. Withdrawing his radar to cover the building in order get an advance warning in case anyone with active flames entered and was deemed a threat, he ran over his instilled protocols, courtesy of Mukuro. Per the database reserved for his allies and famiglia (he suspected he had been meant as a purchasable hitman;) he was to protect and fight alongside Mukuro, Ken, and Chikusa- curiously enough, the others hadn't been entailed as part of his 'famiglia', and he doubted they knew it.

He had wisely decided not to comment on how strange it was for someone as jaded as Mukuro to give two others; however minimal; control over one of his more useful pawns. Artificial hitman or not, he rather suspected being traumatized was still a possibility.

His attention was drawn away from a rather obvious cockroach infestation writhing under the peeling wall paper as one of the bloody twins lunged at him, misshapen head gruesome and stark with volcanic shadows that seemed to bubble over its sallow eye sockets. Placing a hand on the back of the couch, he calmly performed a back hand-spring that vaulted him over the back of the torn couch which was promptly shredded by the monstrosity's slasher like nails. Quickly running through his memories and confirming that Mukuro had not specified whether lethal force could be enforced to others not within his famiglia; he slipped his hands into his pockets as the thing spent a moment disentangling itself from the remains of the couch; Lancia disinterestedly joined the semi-circle watching the fight as Birds licked his lips in anticipation. The projects fingers slipped into familiar metal rings that fit snugly along his knuckles, hand tightening around the flat piece of metal connected to the bands.

He slipped his hands out of his pockets, and side stepped a lunge from the twin; fists equipped with steel knuckles upper cutting the serial killer in the diaphragm and consequently ridding its lungs of air. As it doubled over instinctively, he pressed back on the balls of his heels and applied both hands on the creatures back; feeling its bony spine through the thin white remains of a strait jacket splayed across its gray flesh like a mutilated hospital gown. He transferred all his body weight onto the heels of his palm, and flipped sharply into the air, hands rolling with the motion smoothly as his fingertips drifted off its exposed skin.

the creature jerked towards the ground, back arching in pain, before he performed a tight midair twist and landed in the exact same spot with the heels of his feet, expending all his momentum into the creature's body- there was a crunching sound as the impact shuddered through its spine and distributed itself along its brittle breast bone; the connected ribs snapping weakly. He calmly stepped off the twitching body, and watched the other twin from the corner of his eye- Birds had a staying hand on its shoulder and he grinned sadistically at the blood and chips of bone glinting from where it punctured papery skin.

If possible, Ken and Chikusa watched him even more wearily, cataloguing his weapons, which he had tactfully avoided showing off his skills with- they had been taken out to compensate for his slight lack in upper body force due to the dull ache in all his joints. He didn't think he could throw his shoulder into an effective punch until he had recovered sufficiently from his…programming. As he drifted towards the remains of the couch and settled down once again to dispassionately resume his mindless exploration of the town with the use of his flames, his attention sharpened in on Lancia who had been harboring a concentrated center of mist flames beyond his eye- so Mukuro had been conducting surveillance. Now uncomfortably aware of the hitman's flat gaze, he began drumming his fingers in an incessant manner as he slowly began to rehabilitate his joints- which, now that the adrenaline from the sudden yet one sided fight had faded, began to burn in a manner reserved solely for acids, his shoulders, wrists, hips, knees, feet and fingers tingling uncomfortably. Perhaps it had been unwise to slip into such a bodily assault.

* * *

He absently rubbed at his shoulders, and his fingers came away wet. Stiffening imperceptibly, he slid the loose sleeves of his shirt off his shoulder, and grimaced at the sight of raw skin with veins of a poisonous purple writhing underneath his skin, blood tainted with the chemical bubbling through the skin in black rivulets. His stomach flipped, and he was dully aware of the pain throbbing in the back of his mind, stunted pain receptors the only reason he wasn't a pile of bloody ribbons- if he had acknowledged the pain as it was; a surging agony; the Bloody Twin would have won by a landslide.

determining that the chemical was the cause of his distress, he shrugged the sleeve back on, standing in swift grace and slipping into the shadows that drenched the rooms beyond the ratty living room- aware of Lancia trailing after him curiously, he trotted into a narrow bathroom and closed the toilet seat before sitting cross legged on it and reaching for the faded red plastic first aid box he had spotted next to the bath tub. Lancia leaned on the door frame of the bathroom, and he ignored him as he pulled out a bottle of microbicide, a surgical thread and needle, followed by both standard rolls of gauze. Slipping his shirt off and retrieving his steel knuckles, he turned them over so he was looking at the flat piece of metal that was used as its grip, and flicking a slider switch upward; A short metal blade snapped out of the end with a neat _shink._

summoning storm flames to wreathe the other pair of knuckles, he lowered the knife into the flame and allowed it to destroy any bacteria on the edge; after all; a flame was still a flame, soul energy or not.

Twisting his neck to examine the chemicals that was steadily trickling out of its previous place within his shoulder joints, he widened a slit just above the end of his collar bone and used his other hand to squeeze his arm with enough force to stop the blood flow; preventing the chemical from seeping into the rest of his tissue, before he washed out the neat tear with the microbicide.

He repeated the process with all his joints, even the ones not yet affected, until the blood that ran down his carefully incised skin was a pulsating scarlet. The gashes near his feet had to be long enough to encircle them, due to them being the last place for him to reach, and thus the place with the most surface area taken over by the chemicals. They ended up needing stitches.

Gauze covered most of his body, painstakingly arranged to avoid restricting his movement, with the smaller cuts treated blandly with some band aids found under a pair of scissors.

He walked out of the bathroom tugging his shirt back on, and blinked at the sight in the living room- M.M was waving a shopping bag around menacingly as she jabbed at Ken with her Clarinet, angrily yelling something about 'not going to an airport with a bunch of boys dressed like hobos', to which Chikusa pointed out the dried blood in her carmine hair and got beaned in the face by a shoe box for his trouble.

He approached wearily, and decided not to comment that Mukuro could have easily created the illusion of normal clothes since he suspected it was a rather sensitive matter for her. There were more shopping bags splayed out in front of her feet, and he spotted Birds cheerily setting aside stacks of cash from several pilfered wallets as Mukuro himself leaned against the doorway watching the whole debacle with a feline amusement. He sent the Project a knowing smirk, and suddenly he felt like face palming, professionalism programming be damned.

Of course, he couldn't.

Dammit.

* * *

 **Since I'm following the Kokuyo gang, I'm going to write down how they took control of 'Kokuyo Junior High'. If anyone's interested in leaving a few OC's in the reviews that i could use as students, that would be helpful and divert things from being too generic- thanks~**


	4. Chapter 4

**Project 045**

The Projects unobscured eye twitched in a minuscule manner, the first recorded signs of emotion to even flicker across his visage since his retrieval from the old Estraneo base; now a hollowed skeleton that smelt of ashes and blood. Ken pouted, but forked over the 5 Euros he and Chikusa had been betting over, the projects dull gaze switching lifelessly between the offending object in his hand, and Mukuro, managing to convey his indignance within the expanse of one heart beat and the next. The illusionist simply smirked in an infuriating manner, the playful spread of his lips steadily widening as the Project gazed at him blankly; Leg twitching in what Ken theorized might be an impulse to round house kick the reincarnated soul in the face.

Ken blinked in surprise. Two twitches in two minutes. That had to be a record. With a slight exhale, the project picked up the black butterfly barrette; quite obviously meant for a young girl, if the pink tipped edges of each wing were to be believed; like he wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

"It's for your fringe,"

Mukuro directed helpfully, and Ken held back a snicker- if the unnerving glance that lingered far too long to be nothing short of spiteful was any hint; he hadn't succeeded.

"Don't be rude Ken…."

Chikusa muttered, and hit him lightly on the back of his head- there wasn't any malice behind the halfhearted tap, and Ken could sense the amusement that suffused the room as the Project blandly pinned his fringe away from his eye carelessly, a few strands slipping loose to flutter uncertainly around his face anyways.

"My programmed protocols prohibit me from poking my employer's eyes out with butterfly clips,"

He felt the need to inform them, and Mukuro dissolved into a scatter of hair raising chuckles, Ken beginning to snuffle hysterically as M.M looked torn between laughing or getting riled up at the indirect threat.

"Who even installs protocols like those?"

Chikusa murmured at the same time as Birds inquired eagerly on whether poking an eye out with a flower clip instead would be against his protocols; at which he was graced with a flat look and hands that slipped casually into pockets containing lethal weapons.

Rolling her eyes, M.M cast a critical eye over the band of misfits who had been bestowed with the honor of her un-paralleled clothing style; if she did say so herself- Ken was wearing a loose white shirt with black jeans and purple running sneakers, his messy blonde hair pinned up with a generous amount of undecorated gray barrettes. Chikusa had donned a gray beanie and thick woolen sweater that was slightly too big for him, with non-descript jeans and shoes, all practical in terms of movement- that thought had been kept in mind when she had rustled through the aisles in the second hand shop for the Projects clothes, since she was unsure of his combat style; a thought which proved fruitful.

She had had the most fun with his outfit; simply because of the difficulty in finding anything that didn't clash with his weird hair colors, and so he had had his arms shoved full of a shopping bag containing slightly scuffed up gray jeans with a loose full sleeved and wide mouthed black t-shirt, paired with old combat boots that had been too small for any of the others. How he had made a bloody twin need a hasty patch up job with a figure that dainty, she would never know. Mukuro had donned a camo shirt and jeans with combat boots followed by a black leather jacket, whereas Birds had been decked out in full out old man gear, complete with flannel, the twins dressed similarly, though with the bonus of paper bags she was half hoping they'd wear over their heads; Lancia had been spared his leather pants and worn shirt.

"Can we name him, Byon? It's annoying to call him 'Project 045', Byon."

"Ken, you can't just ask to name someone…"

"Can we use an Asian name then? I've always liked men with Asian names…"

"Stop making weird eyes at Mukuro, Byon!"

"Ken…"

"Kufufufu, how about Ayameko? It means child of the Iris."

"I am obliged to inform you of my correct gender; I am a _male._ "

"That sounds great! His hair is almost the color of an Iris, what about his last name?"

"What about Sutekina, Byon?"

"…Doesn't that mean 'Dainty' in Japanese?"

"S-shut up Kakipi, Byon!"

". . . I have deemed it useless to object. Inform me of when you expect me to adjust my settings."

"You have settings?!"

"Kufufufu, Sutekina Ayameko it is~"

"…This is going to lead to so many misunderstandings…you know, he really does look like a girl, especially with the butterfly clip…"

"If you insist on continuing that train of thought, I will be forced to castrate you on principle."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"..."

"..."

"…That was uncalled for, Byon…"

"Why does he have a protocol against stabbing people's eyes out with butterfly clips but not against castrating them?"

"Kufufufu~"

"I take that to mean Mukuro has no idea either then!"

"ACK, BYON! Don't sneak up on me grandpa, Byon!"

"You HEATHEN! MUKURO IS AMAZING!"

The project watched silently as the conversation took a complete 180 from its previous subject, and felt a tic beginning to work itself up in his forehead as he forcefully turned his attention back to working loop holes into the clauses within his protocols, large enough for him to slip through undetected; and tried to forget the deliberately girly name that went hand in hand with his delicate bone structure and soft voice. In the far recesses of his mind, he grimly vowed to back kick the first person to refer to him as a girl in the face and hopefully knock a few teeth loose while he was at it.

A few more strands of hair floated in front of his face as Bird's birds shot towards their trainer in order to form some sort of fluffy shield against the angered M.M. he scowled internally.

And the damn clip was useless anyhow.

He returned to trying to work around that particular protocol.

* * *

 **This idea just ambushed me and dragged me by the foot into a hedge, I SWEAR! i'm going to have so much fun with the whole girl/boy thing, XD**

 **Answer to Reviews-**

 **PureInsanity39 (Guest) - Thank you for taking the time to read this Dame story!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Project 045**

The brisk chill of Spring danced around the Italian streets in a biting wind, carrying with it the scent of sweet blooms and baking bread as the group of teenagers made steady progress towards the airport at a leisurely pace, occasionally breaking up only to conjoin together again; little yellow birds fluttered in their wake.

Ayameko stared up at cloudy gray skies through his lashes and absentmindedly scraped off a bit of crusted blood from the back of his boot as he walked on, a few steps behind his impromptu gang- there was something oddly satisfying about watching a man realize the 'chick' he had been chatting up had just sent several back molars flying out their mouth.

His lips quirked up, before smoothing out unnaturally. He scowled inwardly, but grudgingly stopped trying to re-create the blood curdling smirks he _knew_ he had once been capable of, and instead watched idly as M.M huddled closer to her cup of coffee and Birds scattered bits of his croissant for his fluffy companions.

There were a lot more setbacks to being incomplete than anticipated.

Due to him being in containment and comatose, his body had been supplemented on injected vitamins, and as such, his digestive system was absolutely not suited to hard food, causing him to risk permanent organ damage if he had tried to ingest anything- this had somehow lead to Ken hurling a _glass_ bottle of supplementary vitamin tablets at his head, with Chikusa pointedly refusing to look anywhere near the 13-year old experiment, leading him to believe the quiet intellectual had been the one to find out.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, amusement surfaced, but all he could find himself to express was completely deadpan concern, because if the both combined thought that giving an underdeveloped teenager; verging on malnourished; _dietary supplements_ were enough to get him back into shape, they were going to need some serious help in the culinary department.

All of which he voiced, to which Chikusa spun away to hide the burning tips of his ears and Ken dissolved into annoyed spiel about how they were only doing this for Mukuro, a topic which was pointedly not touching on his lack of knowledge in the afore-mentioned area.

Sighing, Ayameko blandly patted the blond teens surprisingly fluffy hair in a way which he _knew_ gave off the most concentrated aura of indulgence, before casually side stepping a punch thrown his way and watching it connect with the back of Chikusa's head, who had let his guard down around Ken.

Content with the minor scuffle that now engaged the two, he slipped out of their general range and found himself trotting alongside Lancia, watching the bowling ball bag acting as a sheathe to the man's weapon, slung over a shoulder, with curious violet eyes. The only explanation he could find to the suddenly manageable size of the rather large maul was the cloud flame's propagation factor, something which subconsciously endeared the project to the former body guard.

After all, they had both been free once; Lancia as an unrestrained cloud who had once seen his famiglia as his territory to protect, Ayameko as an illusionist free to experiment with his flames until the Estraneo took an unhealthy interest in his unnaturally fine control over them.

Now, they were both prisoners in their own minds. The possessed Mafioso cast him an uninterested glance and Ayameko returned it with a considering glint- pivoting on his heel in a way that swung the experiment in-front of the man, he surged his storm flames internally, causing a brief inconsistency in the lightening flames that constrained him, and swept his hand in a graceful gesture that belonged to _him._

He held a finger in front of his lips in a secretive signal, lips spreading into a vicious grin, sharp around the edges in a motion that exposed four too many canines, and his violet eyes blazed- before the green flames snapped back to attention, and his arm fell away robotically, the project continuing the pivot that had brought him in front of the man to bring him a few steps behind Birds.

Behind him, he felt Lancia's stare burning into the back of his head, and quiet satisfaction told him that the man had quickly buried his memory of the moment deep into whatever hope he had left- it almost made the ache that twitched his muscles subtly, and the claustrophobic tightening of his shackles bearable.

Almost.

* * *

 **Bit shorter than I'm used to, but think of this chapter as me gearing up for the Kokuyo Arc~**


	6. Chapter 6

**Project 045**

 _Green lightning crackled through the ozone thick air in leaps of arched bolts, suffocating and oppressing. Rain drizzled down faintly, the sparks leaping within each crystal drop as the storm clouds shuddered and broke apart to the relentless bolts of electricity. A mist clung tightly to the silver surface of a lake, the spider silk that once stretched its surface torn and shredded as stars flickered dimly within its strands._

 _He should, he knew, be able to fix this, rebuild what was lost, but he finds himself unwilling to reach beyond the cool mist that scatters his consciousness until his folded deeply into its embrace, the intrusive sparks that leap towards the mist unable to pinpoint him. Not truly._

 _But somewhere beyond his broken walls he can feel the way the rain continues to drizzle, not as strong as the mighty gale it formerly was, but still there all the same- the storm clouds so longer swirl into a tornado that ripped and rippled beyond the lake; the eye of the storm, but they still come together once more, driven by breathless winds that always fall too short._

 _But still the mist grows, and he knows he shouldn't be surprised that it still seethes, is still sentient- it had always been the strongest, but now, as he slowly sinks deeper into it, until his fingertips reform and brush the surface of the silver lake, he thinks that he can truly believe it._

 _The quicksilver trembles beneath his touch, and it takes too much effort to phase through it, so he draws back in agitation, before the lightning catches on and connects with him._

 _Whispers reach towards him, trying to coax him out of his shelter, and he resists the urge to lash out. A cornered animal he was not; (notyet-) but there is only so much he can take, and so when he feels_ something _brush lightly against his mist, he_ **reaches.**

* * *

Chikusa's Flames recoil from Ayameko as an unrecognizable Flame signature surges from the teen, forcing Chikusa's Rain Flames back; and his body shudders, the hand outstretched to wake Ayameko falling limply to his side as his fingers curl reflexively.

Ken shoves impatiently at his back, and even as he stumbles into the aisle between the airplane seats and M.M shoves his luggage into his arms, Ayameko uncurls from the chair like a particularly lazy panther, idly shuffling out into the aisle behind Ken.

He stiffens slightly as someone's Flames reach out subtly towards him, then relaxes as he recognizes Mukuro, who's Mist Flames flicker over his body once as though to check on him, before curling behind him towards Ken and then Ayameko.

He can't tell whether Ayameko had meant to lash out, since the surge had felt…extraneous, maybe? Like it was something…separate to a whole. Ken is picking up on his agitation, and as they go through the airports departure procedures, tension hovers over them like a cloak.

Mukuro has a confused lilt to his lips as he watches the passive Project from the corner of his eye, and perhaps it's exactly that which sets Chikusa's teeth on edge- Ayameko was always expressionless, but there had always been a defensive ( _dangerous) ,_ calculating way to which he observed everything- but it wasn't until his demeanor had shifted to a calm, submissive aura that Chikusa even realized it had existed, and he isn't naïve enough to doubt this was how the 'Estraneo's Project' part of the teen was supposed to be.

 _So, what the hell had they been dealing with thus far?_

It was something like watching a snake basking harmlessly in the sunlight, only to realize later that it had been _this close_ to lunging at your throat, and had restrained itself simply because it had already eaten.

Chikusa doesn't miss the way Mukuro seems to reposition his view on the project, and is quietly disbelieving of how Ken and the others never even _realize._

But as he watches the passive countenance fade into what it had been before, something that had been unsettled calmed, even if, logically, he knew that this was the part of their new member they shouldn't technically trust. Ken, he notices, allows tension to bleed from his shoulders subconsciously at Ayameko's 'return', even while getting into a heated argument with M.M about acquiring a base in Kokuyo.

And if Ayameko avoids silently antagonizing him and Ken on the train ride to Kokuyo from a nearby airport, as well as idly murmur a comment or two that gets M.M to back off Ken's case in a strange way of apologizing, Chikusa politely doesn't mention it.

* * *

Mukuro decides he doesn't appreciate the fact that his latest pawn had gotten anything past him, and soundlessly resolves to monitor their behavioral patterns better than he had been before- said resolve also brings him to the curious realization that the younger illusionist ;despite having a sliver of control over his actions, that quite frankly, shouldn't have been possible by any standards; was suspiciously content to integrate himself into their group without question as well as made no effort to actively reclaim control of himself.

shoving aside those notions for another day, he returns his attention to his current plan of action. The Vongola Decimo, if truly in Namimori, would have mafia monitoring who entered and left Japan, leading him to building fake identities as Italian transfer students into Kokuyo Junior High- Kokuyo was close enough to Namimori that collecting information wouldn't be impossible, as well as the abandoned amusement park was a viable and defensible HQ.

(And if he enters Ayameko as a female student with a wry twist of amusement, it wasn't like he'd keep himself within stabbing range.)


End file.
